Can't feel the hole, it doesn't hurt
Soul, fresh from the desert
Senses heightened, still alert
Don't feel the sand, the mud
Hands stained with innocent blood
Try to remember,
How'd it go?
The Humvees roll
Machine gun hand takin' his toll
No time to stop, one by one makin' the bodies drop
As the fifty sings its song, Pop, Pop, Pop!
Back at base, count 'em up
Pete got three, Dave bagged a few
and we see Wheelman got one too!
The tires, the grill, all covered in human goo
and Private, it's you who
gets to clean the dead from the tire tread
Now get to work maggot, you heard what the commander said
Seein' things you never thought you'd see
No longer blind to reality
This is no game or commercial on TV
Out here the people bleed
To survive is to succeed
in the land where the devil feeds
It's clear they lied
Said all they said so you'd sign, (Fuckin' dotted line...)
Now you're fighting with hands tied and eyes blind
But the money isn't bad and the training was fine
Just fall in line, one more year and you'll have done your time
Hearing critics say,
He's just,
American, proud, and brave
A tool of the trade
A peasant, a pawn, a slave
The wrong end of a bet somebody made
Another son buried in an early grave
Next run, you're on the gun
A city burns in the desert sun
and before you know the sniper's work is done
A hole in your chest
the taste of blood and all the rest
The commercial never gives a clear view of the mess
Never quite clear what you signed on for
But that was all, there is no more
Now you're just
Another body on the floor
Another tally on the score
Another unfinished tour
Another knock on the door
Another mother who can't take it anymore
Another lesson we'll ignore
Another victim of
Another war
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